I am currently raiding my house for “curing” tchotchkes for the comfort station. My mom is sad to part with her little toy bee and her flashing disco ring from my cousin’s bat mitzvah, but my dad is thrilled to get rid of all the junk in our house. Who’s going to get the green whistle, the rosary beads from my trip to Greece in 5th grade, or my orange star-shaped glasses from kindergarten?